


lover, be good to me

by asael



Series: sir, that's my emotional support dom [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Bondage, M/M, Riding, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asael/pseuds/asael
Summary: When Dimitri visits Almyra on the eve of a treaty between their two nations, he isn't sure what to expect from Claude - not after the last time they were together. But Dimitri knows what he wants, and Claude seems to have a few ideas of his own.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Series: sir, that's my emotional support dom [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567426
Comments: 32
Kudos: 431





	lover, be good to me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unraelated](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unraelated/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, I bring you smut...? This is a Christmas gift for Rae, I really hope you enjoy it! For anyone else - this can probably be read on its own, but if you want more context, it is a direct followup to [something so flawed and free](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787257).

The thing Dimitri most wished upon his arrival in Almyra was that he could have visited a bit more quietly.

It was impossible, of course. Claude might be able to fly into Fódlan on a whim, visit the king’s palace as nothing more than a wayward Alliance noble, but Dimitri had no such cover in Almyra. Even if he’d come alone, everything about him would have marked him out as a foreigner - and a particularly distinctive one, at that. No, there was no way the King of Fódlan could have visited Almyra for the first time with anything except a full-on diplomatic delegation.

It needed to be done. He desired peace and good relations, and so did Claude, and it had taken long enough to get Fódlan to a point where he could even begin such things. So it needed to be done, and Dimitri needed to do it via a state visit, and that was just how it had to be.

But as Dimitri sat at the royal table, hours into the elaborate welcoming feast that had been prepared for his arrival, he wished he could have arrived just as Claude had those months ago: fly in, seek his pleasure, and leave with no one the wiser.

That wasn’t why he was here, of course. Claude had sent the first Almyran delegation, just as he’d told Dimitri he would, and treaty negotiations had proceeded well, and now here they were - preparing to finalize the treaty, preparing for both kings to sign it, preparing to celebrate a new era of friendship between Almyra and Fódlan. This visit was far more than just an excuse for Dimitri to indulge himself.

In truth, he did not know how sincere Claude’s invitation had been, those few months ago. _Come to Almyra_ , he’d said, and promised - things Dimitri was embarrassed to think about, and far more embarrassed to admit that he desperately wanted.

He’d thought of it many times since then. He’d thought of that evening in his chambers, on his knees in front of Claude, giving up control to him. He’d thought about it, and more often than not he’d had to take himself in hand when the thoughts became too much.

But all their communication since then had been strictly official. Dimitri had convinced himself to expect nothing, convinced himself that what had happened that night had been a singular experience that would not be repeated. That he was a king, and should not kneel to another king, and certainly should not _want_ to kneel.

Then he had arrived here, in Almyra, and seen Claude’s smile, and in that moment he knew that his desires were not something that he could control so easily.

The final negotiations and signing of the treaty would take only a day, but Dimitri and his delegation were staying for a week. He had learned something of Almyra while he was in school, but he knew now that what he had been taught had been nothing more than rumors and outdated views - views that were not complimentary. Dimitri had realized that even as a child, because they said similar things about men of Duscur, and he knew _those_ things were wrong - so likely the tales of Almyra were as well. But somehow he’d never thought that he would be here, that he would experience it for himself.

So, while Claude’s smile was a distraction, it was not enough to tear him away from these new experiences.

He could not taste the spices in the food, but some of the dishes had a heat to them that he could feel despite his lack of taste. It was the closest he had come to tasting something in years, and he found himself delighted by it, reaching for the platters every time the servers brought them by.

The music was foreign and lively, nothing like the sedate court musicians of Fódlan, and the dancing that came along with it more unrestrained - but, Dimitri could easily tell, no less skilled. Moreso in some ways, perhaps, requiring stamina and dexterity far beyond what he was used to. 

They had been promised displays of strength, as well, show matches, aerial exhibitions from the best wyvern riders. It was all so unfamiliar to Dimitri, who had never left Fódlan before, but impossibly interesting because of that. He did not fit in here - none of his delegation did - but wasn’t that the point? Claude had always stood out, and now it was Dimitri’s turn.

He found that, though it made him uncomfortable, he did not hate it. He quietly endured the suspicious looks - not all of the Almyran lords welcomed this treaty - and accepted the more boisterous welcomes from those who did wish for peace and open borders.

And there was Claude, supervising it all with his ready smile and his easy manner. Dimitri had not seen him rule before, but he had seen the seed of it within Claude (though remembering where, exactly, he had seen that brought a flush to his cheeks). He saw the truth of it now, the way Claude navigated the feast without a moment’s doubt, always knowing what to say and who to say it to, always ready to step in and exercise his authority when the situation demanded it.

He seemed in his element, and Dimitri found himself hard put to do anything but admire him. But he had his duty as well, for all that he was not as skillful as Claude, and so he did what he must - meeting the Almyran lords, discussing the coming treaty. Soothing fears, if he could, showing strength when pressed. The demands of diplomacy.

But still he found his eyes on Claude often through the evening. And, more than once, Claude looked up to meet his gaze with a smile.

It was halfway through the feast before they had a moment to speak. Claude had greeted him upon his arrival, of course, but all true discussion would be put off until tomorrow, until the official negotiations. So they hadn’t spoken, not really. Not until Dimitri found Claude settling in the empty seat next to him, recently vacated by a lord who had claimed to be interested in starting a trade route between his own lands and Fhirdiad.

“This feast is supposed to be for fun,” Claude said with a smile, “don’t let them get too political with you, all right?”

Of course that was impossible, and Claude knew it. Dimitri’s mere presence here was political. But he could appreciate the sentiment, at least, and he managed a slight smile. 

Having Claude right there was - strange. They had not spoken in person since that night, he had not _seen_ Claude since he watched Claude’s pale wyvern fly away from Fhirdiad. He found himself tongue-tied, like an infatuated youth, unsure what to say, what to do. He fell back on what he had been taught since he was a child: politeness.

“You have honored us with all of this,” he said. “It must have been a grand undertaking.”

Claude waved a hand, brushing it off as if it were nothing. “It’s not every day I get a visit from another king, you know. This whole treaty? Kind of a big deal. Anyway, I love this kind of thing. Any excuse for a decent feast.” He laughed then, and Dimitri’s shoulders relaxed a little.

“I have been enjoying it,” he admitted, and was rewarded by the light in Claude’s eyes.

“Good,” Claude said. “We’ll have plenty of work to do, starting tomorrow, so you ought to enjoy yourself now.” He looked around at Dimitri’s delegation - all of them enjoying themselves, or so it seemed. Sylvain was charming an older woman who seemed entirely amused by his efforts, Dedue was quietly exchanging words with a man who had been introduced as the legendary Nader. Even Felix seemed to be enjoying himself, caught up in a lively discussion about the benefits of Almyran steel over that of Fódlan.

It was good to see. Dimitri wanted this, these first gestures of friendship, this slow breaking-down of the walls between their countries. And he knew well that as much as he wanted it, Claude wanted it a thousand times more.

“It’s only too bad we haven’t really gotten to talk,” Claude said. His voice was low, his eyes on Dimitri, and all of a sudden the space between them felt charged. Dimitri held himself very still.

“I would like to talk with you,” he said. His words sounded stilted, awkward, and he was briefly extremely frustrated with himself. He wanted to ask if Claude thought of the night they shared. He wanted to ask if his invitation had been real. He wanted to ask for - something that he could not put into words. But he didn’t have the deft way of conversation that Claude did, he could not find a way to ask any of those things without putting them into plain words, and he knew he could not do that. Not here, where anyone could hear.

“If you’re not too tired after this,” Claude said, eyelashes lowering as he lifted his wineglass to his lips, “maybe you could join me for tea? Fódlan-style. In my room.” He smiled, a little toothy, and Dimitri didn’t think he was wrong to read something into that smile. Suddenly, he felt a twist of anticipation in his stomach.

“That would be pleasant,” he said. Claude smiled, and reached out, and tapped him gently on the back of the hand, just once.

“Great,” Claude said. “Don’t make me wait too long. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

And there was nothing Dimitri could say to that, because Claude was rising from the seat he’d taken, back to his duties as host and king, making this all run impossibly smoothly.

Dimitri found it very difficult to think of anything else after that. He did his best, managing to interject a bit in a spirited discussion between Ingrid and an Almyran lord about the benefits and drawbacks of wyverns and pegasi. And he thought he acquitted himself well enough when it came to eating and drinking - enough that his head spun a little and he had to refuse any more.

But it was all little more than a distraction after that. After Claude’s quiet promise.

The celebrations would continue late into the night, as was Almyran tradition, but no one - not even the host, not even the honored guests - was required to be there the whole time. They could wander in and out as needed, to rest or take some air, fight or find another sort of pleasure.

And so, when Dimitri saw Claude slip away, he followed not long after.

He was nervous, could feel that nervousness threatening to make him falter, and so he willed it away. He still didn’t know - couldn’t be sure - if Claude still meant what he had said that night, so many weeks ago. The careful flirting during the feast made him want to believe, but Claude had always been impossible for him to read. 

Claude’s room was not difficult to find. It was the king’s chamber, after all, known by all the servants and all the guards. There were no guards outside the room, luckily - Dimitri did not know what this night might bring, but if it ended up anything like his deepest desires… well, he did not wish for anyone to _hear_ anything.

Merely the thought made him flush, and he took a moment to bring himself under control before knocking lightly on Claude’s door.

It opened immediately, and Dimitri took that as a sign that Claude had been waiting for him - that, and the sly smile on Claude’s face.

“Come on in, your Kingliness,” he said, and stepped back from the door so Dimitri could enter.

“I am not certain you should call me that, since you’re a king as well,” Dimitri said, with a hint of a smile. “Or perhaps I should call you the same thing?”

“Now that I’d like to hear,” Claude said with a laugh, and Dimitri shook his head. He doubted he could even attempt to say such a thing with a straight face.

“Perhaps there’s an Almyran title I can call you,” he said.

Claude closed the door behind him, the soft _click_ of it making Dimitri shift in place. They were alone now. He tried not to think too deeply about what that might mean.

“ _Claude_ is fine,” Claude said. “For now.” He stepped back, looking up at Dimitri. Something about his gaze felt assessing, too observant. But that was Claude, after all. “It doesn’t look like you were able to relax much at all, despite this great feast I threw for you. I’m not gonna take it personally, though… I kind of think you might not have really relaxed in weeks.”

Dimitri wasn’t sure what to say to that. He felt his cheeks heat. “Perhaps I have not.”

And Claude smiled up at him. “You know, I do have tea, if you want some. But I don’t think that’s why you came, is it?” He wasn’t touching Dimitri, but he was standing just a little too close. Dimitri shifted again, but he did not step away.

The doubts he’d held onto before were fleeing his mind now. When Claude looked at him like that, when he said such a suggestive thing - Dimitri knew what he was asking, he could not pretend otherwise. And this, he supposed, was the moment of truth. He didn’t _have_ to go through with this. If he desired otherwise, he knew - he was fairly certain - that Claude would simply smile and step back and pour him tea, and they’d spend the evening talking about what their Academy friends were doing these days, and politics, and preferred tea blends.

It would be a pleasant evening, well-spent.

It wasn’t what Dimitri wanted.

“That’s not why I came,” he said, and Claude’s smile in response made him want - so much. But he took a breath, and he continued. “But this is not a personal visit. I need to be sure - this can’t -”

Claude raised a hand, understanding in his eyes. “Nothing that happens in this room will have any effect on our treaty. I have worked too hard for peace between our countries to allow anything to threaten it, especially not something that we both want.”

Some of the tension went out of Dimitri. Despite everything that Claude pretended to be, Dimitri knew that he was a trustworthy man. That he could be trusted if he said that, if he made those promises.

That he could be trusted with - this.

“When you step in here,” Claude said, and he raised one gloved hand, touching the tips of his leather-clad fingers to Dimitri’s cheek, “you’re not the king of Fódlan and I am not the king of Almyra.” 

His hand slid downwards, past the vulnerable length of Dimitri’s throat, settling over his heart. His gaze was steady, assessing, unrelenting. His smile was - Dimitri found it hard to look him in the eye when he smiled like that. It affected him in a way he could not describe.

“We’re just two people,” Claude said, his hand on Dimitri’s chest the lightest of touches. Still it held Dimitri in place more firmly than chains. “Do you remember how this game is played, your majesty?”

Dimitri felt a rush of amusement, amusement and a hint of wonder that Claude could so easily toss aside their titles in one moment and then, in the next, use them as a prop in his game. Because when Claude said it, when he smiled like that and said it like that, _your majesty_ was not the honorific that divided Dimitri from those he wished could be his friends, even his equals. It was something else, something far more proprietary.

The way Claude said it, it verged on inappropriate.

“Yes,” Dimitri said. He remembered, very vividly, how this game was played. He remembered struggling with it, torn between his desire to hand control over to Claude and the crushing weight of his position, a position that required never handing control over to anyone.

He remembered how it had felt to give in to what he wanted, just for one night.

He’d had weeks, months to think about that night, months to reconcile his desires and his position. Even so, he felt that same struggle in this moment. 

Then Claude spoke, and Dimitri remembered how easily he took control, how effortless it seemed for him to bend Dimitri to his will. “Good,” he said, and stepped back, letting his hand fall. “Take off your clothes for me.”

It was not a request. It was an order, made with ease and authority, and Dimitri found himself obeying without thought, as if the way Claude spoke, the way Claude looked at him, simply bypassed all his doubts and struggles. As if Claude had him in the palm of his hand in an instant.

Dimitri was dressed for a state visit, for a royal feast thrown in his honor, all fine fabrics and ornate brocade, Fódlan craftsmen wanting to show off their skill on the person of the king. That meant it took him some time to undress, his hands fumbling with the small ties at his wrists. His hands were too large, or he was clumsy, or he was simply nervous, or some combination of all of those things.

Or, he could admit to himself now, he was excited.

Claude did not help him. Claude only watched him, pleased and hungry. He waited until the shirt slipped off Dimitri’s shoulders, until his trousers had been unlaced and removed. Until he was bare in front of Claude, cheeks flushed, pretending he didn’t notice how intently Claude was watching him.

“I wondered if I’d remembered wrong,” Claude said, and he was walking close now, bringing up his hand to touch Dimitri’s chest in the same place he had before. He was still fully clothed, the leather of his gloves an entirely different sensation against Dimitri’s bare skin. “But no. You’re just as lovely as I remembered.” He trailed his hand across Dimitri’s chest, now, pausing for a moment to tease his nipple. Dimitri could not stop himself from breathing in, quickly, hardly more than a gasp.

The corners of Claude’s lips curved. “And just as sensitive as I remembered, too.”

He stepped closer, his hand sliding downward, over Dimitri’s scarred torso. He did not seem bothered by anything he saw - he hadn’t the first time, either. Moving down, his gloved fingers brushed against Dimitri’s cock, hanging between his legs. He stroked it, drawing another gasp from Dimitri, the sensation bursting through him.

“This too,” Claude said. “So sensitive. And big… I think I’ll make you put it to use today.” He didn’t stop, wrapping his hand around Dimitri, the supple leather of his glove sliding against Dimitri’s skin. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Dimitri said, because he could say nothing else. Not with Claude’s hand on him like this. Not with Claude standing so close.

“You’ve thought of it,” Claude said, and he stroked Dimitri again, slow and teasing. “You on your knees for me. You were made to please me, your majesty.” He said it so easily, so casually, as if it were simply a truth of the world. And then his hand came up, and tangled in Dimitri’s hair, and he pulled Dimitri down until their lips met.

The kiss was heated, hungry, enough to make Dimitri shiver. Claude’s teeth caught his lip, biting for just a moment, a swift shock of pain that made everything else seem so much more real, more intense. And then Claude was stepping away, ignoring Dimitri’s quickening breaths and his half-hard cock.

“I’ve been thinking about it too,” Claude said. “If I remember right, I told you I’d take everything off, too. I intend to keep that promise.” He smiled. “But I didn’t say anything about letting you touch me. Get on the bed.”

The room was large enough for a sitting area in addition to the bed. Claude was king, of couse he would have lavish chambers. But there was a bed, a bed Dimitri had tried not to notice when he walked in. He’d tried not to assume anything. But now he looked at it: covers thrown aside, high headboard in a fashion more suited to Fódlan than Almyra. He looked, and he thought of Claude in that bed, sleeping naked between the sheets.

He walked to the bed. Claude followed.

“On your back,” Claude said, and Dimitri could do nothing but obey. He stretched out on the bed, almost uncomfortably aware of his own nudity, the sheets soft against his back. Claude took something from the table by the bed, then slid on as well, straddling Dimitri’s torso with ease.

He looked down at Dimitri from above, a little smile on his lips, the finger of one hand trailing down Dimitri’s chest. Though he wasn’t particularly heavy, he still hadn’t rested his full weight against Dimitri, hovering over him instead as if he would move at any moment.

“You look good in my bed,” he murmured. “Give me your hands.”

And Dimitri did. He could see what Claude held now - a silken ribbon, royal blue, tangled between the fingers of the hand not touching Dimitri. 

“I got this just for you,” Claude said as he tugged Dimitri’s arms over his head, wrapped the ribbon around his wrists again and again, and secured him to the headboard. Claude moved with ease and confidence, as if he knew Dimitri wouldn’t pull away, as if he had no doubt Dimitri would allow this. “So don’t break it.”

Dimitri felt a mingled sense of embarrassment and excitement that Claude had this ability, that he was able to read Dimitri so well. The ribbon was delicate enough that Dimitri could have snapped it with almost no effort at all, with barely a movement, but it wasn’t meant to physically tie him down. It was a symbol of Claude’s control, a symbol of Dimitri’s obedience.

He gripped the headboard and resolved to stay still, even as Claude shifted above him, brushing against his tumescent cock. 

Claude’s smile had not dimmed, not for a moment. “So here are the rules.” He leaned in so their faces were close, pressing his lips to Dimitri’s jaw. A gentle kiss. “Don’t break the ribbon.” He moved downward, kissing Dimitri’s throat now, just as gentle. “Don’t come until I say you can.” He moved downward again, pressed his lips to Dimitri’s collarbone. And there - where it would be hidden by his clothes - Claude sank his teeth into Dimitri’s flesh.

It was another sharp burst of pain, another intense sensation, not enough to hurt - not really, not for Dimitri, who knew well what pain could be - but enough to sharpen his senses, enough to make him gasp.

“Do you understand?” Claude said, raising his head. His expression as he looked down at Dimitri now was more serious, but - anticipatory. He waited for a response.

Dimitri took a breath, nodded. Claude cocked an eyebrow. “Say it,” he reminded gently.

“I understand,” Dimitri said. His voice sounded hoarse, and he was shocked for a moment by how clear his arousal was in it.

Claude smiled. “And you want this?”

It was not a question that needed an answer. They both knew that. The power that Claude held over Dimitri was what Dimitri had given him, freely and willingly. If he didn’t want this, he could snap the ribbon in a moment, end it, walk out of here.

They both knew that he wouldn’t. But Dimitri also knew that Claude wanted him - perhaps needed him - to say it.

“I want this,” he said, and felt his cheeks flush at the admission, at the acknowledgement.

Claude leaned down and kissed him, long and slow and hungry.

“There’s my good boy,” he said, soft against Dimitri’s lips, and then he got off of him. He took his clothing off, piece by piece, letting the elaborate Almyran draping slip to the floor carelessly. He didn’t look at Dimitri as he did it, but he took his time - not coyly, not even with a deliberate air of seduction, but as if he simply assumed Dimitri would be watching, as if he saw no reason not to draw it out, to tease him.

And, of course, Dimitri was watching.

Despite what they’d done, what he’d let Claude do to him, this was the first time Dimitri had seen him like this. He was - beautiful. Slim but muscled, with the back and arms of an archer and the taut thighs of a wyvern rider. He had battle scars, yes, but nothing like Dimitri’s - they did not mar his golden skin, but accentuated it, silvery lines here and there that showed what a fierce warrior he was.

Dimitri wanted, very badly, to touch him. He twitched his wrist, only for a moment, and felt the tension of the ribbon reminding him of Claude’s orders.

He fell still, stayed in place. Let his eyes rove over Claude’s bare body, because he could look, he could do that much.

“I like the way you look at me,” Claude said, and Dimitri jerked his eyes from where they’d been - on Claude’s cock, hanging between his legs - up to his face, to see that he was smiling again, sly and in control. “Have you thought about this, Dimitri?”

Dimitri did not think he would ever stop feeling a thrill at the way Claude said his name, the way his lips curled around the syllables as if it were a fine piece of chocolate. Something to be savored. Something delicious.

Claude returned to the bed, slid back on, and swung his leg over Dimitri’s torso. He settled where he had been before, atop Dimitri, hand against his chest. Now, though, Dimitri could feel Claude’s skin against his, the warmth of him, the weight of Claude’s cock resting on his stomach.

“Yes,” he said, because he knew Claude wasn’t going to let him get away with not answering. He couldn’t do anything but tell the truth. He couldn’t do anything but obey Claude.

“I thought so,” Claude said. “I’ve thought about it, too. About you. What I could do with you… to you.” He slid his hands up Dimitri’s chest, teasing his nipple and then pinching it, sudden and sharp. Dimitri drew in a breath, tensed, but didn’t move, and Claude smiled. “Tonight I’m going to use you however I like. You can just think of yourself as my toy. Or better yet -” he leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Dimitri’s chest - “don’t think at all.”

And then Claude slid his tongue over Dimitri’s nipple, and Dimitri couldn’t hold back a moan. He held on to the headboard as Claude took his time, mouth and hands and teeth leisurely making their way across Dimitri’s body. Claude sucked another mark into his skin, pressed nipping bites down the length of his neck, twisted his nipples between finger and thumb.

Claude’s words rang in his ears. _Think of yourself as my toy._ That was what he felt like, with Claude touching him, teasing him, tasting him, and each time pausing for just a moment to see his reaction. Then he would smile, as if he were cataloging it, locking it away in some part of his impossible mind. _When I do this, Dimitri moans. When I do that, he arches his back._

Dimitri was being toyed with, and he could not deny the reaction he had to that.

He found it increasingly difficult to stay still. He gripped the headboard, did not dislodge the ribbon Claude had tied around his arms, but being unable to touch - to truly move - meant that his desire, his need, came out in other fashions. He had never thought of himself as the vocal type, but now he found himself crying out, moaning, even saying soft words like _please_ and _Claude_.

And Claude smiled, and leaned down to kiss the lobe of his ear and say, “You sound so lovely like this, your majesty.”

Dimitri was hard now, and all he wanted was something to press against, for Claude to touch him, anything, anything at all. He could do nothing, though, not until Claude said, “Are you hard for me yet?”

He reached back and touched Dimitri, just a brush of fingers, and his smile turned very pleased. “Oh, what a good boy.”

“Claude,” Dimitri said, unable to stop himself, “ _please_.”

Claude tapped his fingers against Dimitri’s abdomen. He was hard too, Dimitri could see it. Surely he wanted something - some kind of contact - as much as Dimitri did.

“I like hearing you beg,” Claude said. He climbed off Dimitri then, and Dimitri’s body tensed, wanting to go after him, wanting to catch hold of him and - and -

_Don’t break the ribbon._

Dimitri forced himself to relax, forced himself to stay where he was. He waited for Claude to return, hard, desperate, his breath coming in short bursts.

Claude got back on the bed, but this time he didn’t climb on top of Dimitri. He sat next to him, and in his hands was a vial of oil.

“You’re here only to give me pleasure,” Claude said, and he uncorked the vial, pouring the oil on his fingers. “So remember. You don’t get to come until I say you can.” And then he reached out, wrapped his fingers still covered in oil around Dimitri’s cock, and began to slick him up.

Claude’s hand on his erection was impossibly good. Dimitri gasped, bit his lip, tried his very hardest to stay still, but he could not keep from rocking his hips into Claude’s grip. Claude allowed it for a moment, then moved his hand away. 

“Aren’t you eager?” His voice was teasing, still so in control, and then Dimitri watched as Claude raised himself up onto his spread knees and slid a hand between his legs, pressing one slick finger into himself. The sight went straight to his cock, and he gripped the headboard, pushing down his desire, his need. It didn’t matter if he wanted to reach out. It didn’t matter that he _could_ , if he wanted to. Claude had made the rules very clear, and Dimitri - Dimitri wanted to obey.

He wanted to please Claude.

Claude slid another finger into himself, and then a third, stretching and opening up that tight ring. He was breathing hard now too, the first and only crack in his easy control.

“Do you want to fuck me, Dimitri?” he asked, working at himself, easing the way. “Have you thought about it?” At Dimitri’s silence, his eyes flickered up, green and sharp and far too observant. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” Dimitri said, and it came out louder than he meant it to, almost a plea. “I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about - “ And there his words deserted him, because how could he describe all the things that he’d thought about? Having Claude’s cock in his mouth again, kneeling at his feet, fucking him, being fucked. He’d thought about it all. He’d _wanted_ it all.

“Good,” Claude said, and he slid his fingers out of himself and moved, on top of Dimitri again, looking down at him. “But you don’t get to fuck me now, your majesty. I’m going to use you just how I please.”

He reached down, taking hold of Dimitri’s cock again, positioning him just right so that Claude could lower himself down. Inch by inch, Claude took Dimitri inside of him, moving down onto Dimitri’s cock, enveloping him in a tight heat far beyond anything Dimitri had ever felt before.

It was all he could do to stay still. All he could do to hold onto the headboard, keep the ribbon intact, let Claude use him.

Claude was breathless now, though he seemed to have no trouble lowering himself slowly, so slowly. He didn’t stop talking, though, didn’t stem that easy, filthy stream of words. “That first time, as soon as I saw, I knew. With a dick like yours, you were meant for this, Dimitri.” He slid down further, Dimitri halfway inside him now. “You’re so big, and hey - it’s not like you were using it for anything else, right? I might as well use you properly, since no one else seems to realize what a perfect, obedient toy you can be.”

He gasped, lowering himself with only the slightest wince until Dimitri was all the way inside him, buried in Claude’s tight ass. “Goddess, you feel good. I like them big, but really - you’ve been blessed, your majesty. And I get to reap the rewards.”

Dimitri could not speak, could not think. All he could see was Claude, Claude above him, Claude around him, Claude seeing him like no one else ever had. Claude _owning_ him like no one else ever had. Even if he’d wanted to break the ribbon, pull away from the headboard, take control - in that moment, he couldn’t.

Claude grinned, and steadied himself, and then he began to move.

It was nothing like Dimitri had ever felt, nothing that he had ever imagined, everything he had ever wanted. He couldn’t take his eyes off Claude: head thrown back, cock hard and dripping, riding him with every bit of the skill it might have taken him to ride a wyvern. 

The oil slicked the way, and Claude slid up and down Dimitri’s cock, setting a harsh pace, his hands steadying himself on Dimitri’s chest - but all it really took was his thighs, taut with muscle, fucking Claude down onto Dimitri’s cock and then lifting him up again, relentless and demanding.

Dimitri wanted so badly to lift his hips, press up into Claude, but he controlled himself as best he could, he held still, he bowed to Claude’s whims and desires and thrilled with every gasp of pleasure that slipped from Claude’s lips.

“Dimitri - ah - yes, you feel so good inside me, your cock was made for this, I would keep you here in my bed and use you every night like this -”

It was a stream of filthy desire, Claude’s clever tongue weaving words into a fantasy Dimitri could not help but crave: himself, a slave to Claude’s whims and needs, warming his bed, pleasing him. Kneeling at his feet, letting Claude use his cock, use every part of his body - 

And then Dimitri could not take it anymore. He tensed, he gripped the headboard, the world went white -

Then he came hard, filling Claude with his hot seed, crying out as he lost control.

The world went blank for a moment, then two. When he could begin to think again, he realized he hadn’t moved - he hadn’t broken the ribbon - but he was softening inside Claude now, and Claude’s eyebrows were raised, the perfect image of disbelief.

“ _Dimitri_ ,” he said, a tone just on the edge of scolding, a tone that send shivers down Dimitri’s spine. “Did you forget the rules?”

“No,” Dimitri said. Though he could barely think, he remembered those, and yes. He knew he had failed. “I’m - I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” Claude said. He hadn’t moved, Dimitri’s cock still inside him, his own hard and red and jutting up in front of him. “Did I say you could come?”

“No,” Dimitri acknowledged, and he flushed, embarrassed at his own lack of control. But Claude had been so hot, so tight, and the _things_ he had said - 

“I _definitely_ didn’t say you could come inside me.” Claude moved then, letting Dimitri slide out of him. He still hovered above Dimitri, looking down at him. “That, you’re going to have to make up for.” He moved up Dimitri’s body until he could grab hold of the headboard as well, next to where Dimitri’s wrists were tied to it. He caught hold of his cock - still hard - and slid it against Dimitri’s cheek, leaving a trail of fluid behind.

“I can - use my mouth,” he said, and he remembered so vividly the weight of Claude’s cock in his mouth, the way he’d moaned when he came. He could do that again. He would be _happy_ to do that again, to make up for his disobedience.

“Oh, you will,” Claude said. “You’re going to use that mouth of yours to lick every bit of your come out of me.”

It was something Dimitri had never thought of, had never considered, had never imagined. But Claude always seemed to be full of these things, always seemed to be ready to push Dimitri to his limits and then - ever so gently - beyond.

And Dimitri wanted it. If he had failed at giving Claude his cock, he could give Claude this, and perhaps please him. Perhaps make him feel even a fraction of the way he made Dimitri feel.

“Yes,” he said, and Claude laughed softly, and moved.

He turned around, hovering above Dimitri still, bracing himself on Dimitri’s chest and lowering just enough so that Dimitri could stretch upwards and press into the cleft of Claude’s thighs, into that tight hole slick with oil and his own cum. He couldn’t taste it, of course, and distantly he wondered if that made it easier. It didn’t really matter. He would have done this for Claude regardless.

Claude gasped above him and pressed down, urging Dimitri on, and Dimitri pressed up into him, sliding his tongue around the edges of Claude’s entrance and then pushing inside, finding it surprisingly easy. When he breached that barrier Claude moaned and Dimitri felt something sliding over his tongue, something that he knew was his own seed, the leavings of his release within Claude.

The thought of it made his cock twitch, though he knew he couldn’t get hard again so soon, and he redoubled his efforts, licking and opening Claude up with his tongue, trying to get every bit of what he’d left inside this man he desired so much. He wished he could use his hands, wished he could lay Claude out on the bed and give all the pleasure he was able, but even here Claude set the pace, pressing down into Dimitri’s mouth, moving back, making sure he could breathe and move and pleasure him.

Above him, Claude moaned and tensed, the sounds coming from him turning into wordless music. Dimitri tilted his head, slid his tongue along Claude’s balls, heard Claude gasp, then returned to his hole to lick up the rest of his own leavings. Claude’s hand was moving on himself now, and he began to move his tongue with the same rhythm, in and out, pressing against his entrance, pushing inside him.

And then Claude cried out and came, thighs tightening around Dimitri’s head, ropes of cum painting his chest. Dimitri saw him shudder with the intensity of it, saw him work hard to recover himself. Then he moved, slid off Dimitri, collapsed on the bed next to him.

“Well done,” Claude said, breathless, and Dimitri felt pride well up at the praise. “You did such a good job for me.” He pulled himself upright and stood, walking on slightly unsteady legs to retrieve a basin of water and a cloth. His hands were gentle as he cleaned them both up, taking his time, and then he climbed back on the bed and tugged the ribbon off Dimitri’s wrists. “Mm, not even a tiny rip. You’re really something, your majesty.”

Dimitri flushed at that, stretching his arms, feeling the tension where he’d held them tight to keep still. Claude settled next to him and took Dimitri’s right arm in his hands, massaging the strain away. “I - did not wish to disappoint you.”

Claude smiled at him then, bright and pleased. “There’s no way you can do that. It’s all just a game, you know?” He let go of Dimitri’s right arm, reached over and took his left and began to massage it. “You’re letting me live out a fantasy. All this power, under my control… and you’re so good at obeying.”

Dimitri did not know what to say to that, so he merely reached out with his free hand and gathered Claude against him. He didn’t know - couldn’t be sure - the borders of this odd relationship between them, but Claude had allowed such closeness after the first time. He allowed this now, too, leaning into Dimitri.

“You seemed pretty wound up when you got here, though,” Claude said, letting go of Dimitri’s arm and moving, pulling Dimitri with him so Dimitri could rest his head on Claude’s shoulder. Claude ran his fingers through Dimitri’s hair, still gentle, sated. “You needed this.”

It was embarrassing to have it stated so plainly, but Dimitri could not disagree. “I did. I have - wished for it, while we were apart.”

“Not that I’m not happy to hear that,” Claude said, laughter in his voice, “but you really should find a way to relax when I’m not around.”

“I have no desire to do this with anyone but you,” Dimitri said, a bit more firmly than he had intended. 

Claude’s hand in his hair went still for a moment. “I’m glad,” he said, and there was something in his voice that Dimitri had not heard there before, something he could not name. Then Claude cleared his throat and it was gone, evened out to light amusement. “But I meant something else. A calming hobby. Knitting, maybe. Then you could send me scarves so I won’t freeze next time I visit you.”

 _Next time._ Dimitri smiled at the thought, the answer to an unspoken question. Next time, and right now they had this, days of international diplomacy and nights to themselves.

He felt certain Claude would not turn Dimitri away from his bedchamber should he show up the next night, and the next, and the next.

“Perhaps I will,” he said, and he pressed his face into Claude’s neck and felt the shiver of his throat as he laughed.


End file.
